FIREPLACE POETRY

You say faith is fiction,
A myth passed down through fear,
But history doesn’t tremble
When the name of Jesus appears.

Not a legend whispered loosely,
Not a tale that fades with time—
He split the calendar in two,
Even skeptics mark His line.

Born under Roman record,
Crucified in public view,
Tacitus wrote it, Josephus too—
Not believers, yet they knew.

A carpenter from Nazareth,
No crown, no throne, no sword,
Yet His words outlived empires,
And His name still shakes the world.

You don’t have to trust a pulpit,
Or a preacher’s polished plea—
Just read the facts historians keep,
Outside of theology.

Twelve men watched Him executed,
Ran in fear, then turned around,
Faced death smiling, unafraid—
What makes cowards stand their ground?

People don’t die for a metaphor.
They don’t bleed for a lie.
Something happened in that tomb—
Something no grave could justify.

And here’s the part that’s hard to dodge,
Even if you push belief away:
Scripture says the demons shudder
When they hear His name proclaimed.

They don’t debate His existence.
They don’t question if He’s real.
They recognize authority—
A power human minds can’t steal.

If evil knows Him, fears Him, flees,
If history confirms the cost,
If His words still change the broken
Long after Rome was lost…

Then maybe faith isn’t blindness.
Maybe doubt isn’t the proof.
Maybe truth just isn’t loud—
It stands steady under proof.

You don’t have to bow tonight.
You don’t have to claim belief.
But ask yourself this honest thing:
Why does His name still shake the weak?

Empires fell.
Caesars turned to dust.
But Jesus?
Still discussed.
Still followed.
Still transforming lives.

And maybe the question isn’t
“Is He real?”
But rather—
“What if He is?”

Written By: Alex Garvin (Fireplace-Poetry)

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